1945 May 5th – the morning, southern England

Reggie Hammond hurried across the tarmac apron at RAF Poddington. Once again, it was drizzling with rain but he slowed to turn round, smiling to see how far behind his boys were. Only twenty-three years old, Hammond had flown his quota of missions and was now looking forward to going home. In any case, they all knew this war was nearly at the end.

Close up the B-17 was huge but it was a real workhorse, stable and easy to fly in formation. It was not nicknamed a flying fortress for nothing. This plane had been named Fort Worth Jailhouse by the first crew: the pilot, Rhoten Smith, wanted to choose a name to remind him of home – Texas and a popular song. Reggie looked up at the sky which was not very encouraging with lowering clouds but clapped his co-pilot Sprout on the back and said “After you!”. Unusually, the plane’s entrance was right at the back.

Following up the short ladder, Reggie ducked as he made his way through the low, narrow cabin. The two men sat down to strap themselves in and begin the pre-flight checks. Following behind was Duffy the navigator. He had already plotted their route, 76 miles north of Poddington to RAF Chelveston to drop off some ammunition (the 8^th USAAF, the 8^th Airforce division, were stationed at both these two bases) before going on to Greenham Common.

The compass from the B-17

There were some passengers as well – Will Dutton was hitching a lift to Greenham plus three others, Len Nitti, Daniel Minkon and Jake Bukeima, who were on a training exercise. Doing up their jackets against the cold and ribbing each other they settled down into their seats. Hammond confirmed their plans with the control tower and taxied out to the runway.  They had a full fuel tank and she was still loaded with ammunition, ever ready even if it should not be needed again.

Slowly the great plane lifted off the runway and climbed steadily. Turning through the thick clouds, the rain seemed to be increasing but once above the clouds, it was much easier. Duffy was looking at the navigation aids and twenty minutes later descended through the fog before deciding it was 10/10 fog and they would abort and instead fly straight to Greenham Common.

Flying above the clouds for another half an hour and not sure where they were, they decided to descend and see if the shape of the landscape, the roads or any towns would help orientate them. Unfortunately, the clouds seemed only to get thicker and more discombobulating. Why on earth was it so foggy in May?

They were better versed at flying in formation across to Germany than creating their own navigations plans. Slowly easing down in the terrible weather conditions, they came out of the clouds to see a large turreted building below them. Circling around and discussing which direction to head in, they circled round a second time.

“Ok folks we are going to head south which is in this direction …”

Hammond straightened out the plane from the banking turn. Len had a bad feeling, stood up, grabbed his chute and was facing the back of the plane when there was a huge flash.

Hammond was pulling back up and up and up, the engines screaming trying to make it over a hill and trees which had come out of nowhere in the fog. So near yet not quite enough, the plane hit the trees and burst into flames, falling forward across the hill and tumbling across and down the far slope.

Below on the lawns at Highclere, the staff heard the roar of the huge plane’s engines and had gone outside to look. As if in slow motion, the gardeners saw the great silver plane turn south before they saw the flash of flame and heard the screaming metal. Fire shot into the sky and the noise of explosions made everyone rush up the hill to see if they could help.  Mr Smith the butler rang for the doctor.

The first to arrive on the scene were the keepers. It was unbelievably hot but they found two men, one badly burned on the woodland floor who, sadly, did not long survive, and the other unconscious, leaning back against a cedar tree. The doctor was immediately worried he had broken his back as he was entirely unresponsive with burns from the fuel but, at least he was alive. They carefully laid him on a stretcher and carried him to the back of the doctor’s car.

Within an hour, US airmen arrived on the scene from Greenham but the wreck was still burning and had ignited the earth and trees around it so it was agreed that the remains of the rest of the crew would have to be recovered the next day.

Over the next seventyyears, the trees and wildlife returned, and the bomber and its crew were gradually forgotten. Writing “Lady Catherine and the Real Downton Abbey”, I heard a story about a B-17 crash from one of our keepers. Finding parts of the plane, researching the young crew and wondering what their hopes and dream were, this is a year to mark time with them. Eighty years later we have placed a cross marking where these sons and brothers died.

Their descendants today…. if you do follow us on @highclere_castle please look

There were a further seven plane crashes on the Highclere Estate during WW2, each with their own tales of courage and loss. These stories underpin Highclere’s “Weekend to Remember” to say thank you and to raise money for those who serve and save today.

When they died on May 5^th 1945, Reggie Hammond was 23 years old, Robert Sprout was 22 years old, Jake Buikema 20 years old, John F Duffy, Daniel Minkon and William Dutton were 22 and Len Nitti 21.

Thank you.